Ballroom Farce
by Silvestria
Summary: Charles is back from Poland and what could be more natural than for Mary to welcome him back with a trip to London's hottest night club? But neither could have anticipated bumping into old acquaintances in the shape of Mabel Lane Fox and Sir Richard Carlisle. Written for the Pigs in Blankets 2014 Secret Santa challenge for Scarlet Secret.


_A/N: Written for the Pigs in Blankets 2014 Mary/Charles Secret Santa for _**Scarlet Secret**_. Her prompts were: _1) Charles and Mary hit a club and live the high life. 2) An encounter with any past DA character (but preferably Richard Carlisle!) 3) Mary vs Mabel Lane Fox whilst Charles watches and gets a bit turned on :P _How could I resist combining all prompts into one story? _

_All the music mentioned in this story are authentic for 1925 and can be found on youtube. Hope you enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Ballroom Farce<strong>

Not yet four weeks open and Lady Mary Crawley was already a member of London's newest and most opulent night club, the Kit Cat Club. She blamed her cousins Rose and Atticus who first invited her down to London to sample its delights. And who would object to the most extravagant variety shows, a wide selection of choice cocktails, sumptuous seating, delicious food and the hottest bands in London? Certainly not Mary.

So when Charles wrote from Paris to say that he was finally on the way home and would she like to meet him in London if she had nowhere better to be, it was natural to invite him along. It was a more neutral environment to meet than Downton and Mary wanted it to be neutral. How would he have changed? How had she changed? What were they to each other after a year of nothing more than letters and the odd, hasty telephone call? But strangely a single letter could be more intimate than a whole week in bed together. Even a postcard with a single line on it could be meaningful if the only two people in the world who would smile at it were the sender and recipient.

They met at eleven in the lobby, aiming to beat those coming on from the theatre. Mary was sufficiently aware of being nervous about seeing him and consequently arriving early, that she actually arrived five minutes late and found him circling around, his head tipped back to admire the play of coloured lights on the mock Italianate architecture. His face creased into a smile when she materialised next to him and he leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

"Mary, how lovely it is to see you again," he said as he pulled back to look at her properly.

As for him, he seemed slightly paler and heavier than she remembered from the previous year. The effect of a long winter and too many sausage and sauerkraut dinners, she supposed. Her heart still skipped a beat so it seemed that a year in which she had not been _exactly _celibate the entire time had done nothing to quench those unexpected feelings that had overwhelmed her on their last meeting and he had kissed her. Or perhaps it was just the surprise of seeing him after anticipating it for so long.

He helped to divest her of her fur mantle which was all she needed on a summer's evening and she wondered if his hand lingered on her bare shoulder just a moment too long as he did so. It could have been her imagination.

"Shall we?" he suggested, offering her his arm. "I'm sure you have plenty to tell me over dinner and drinks."

"Not as much as you do," she observed, accepting it.

He chuckled. "I'm not sure about that! Are we dining on the balcony or down below?"

"Down below. I thought it would be nice to be closer to the musicians."

"Is that a hint, Mary?"

"Perhaps!" She grinned at him, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. "Let's take the lift." And she grinned even more mischievously at his surprise.

The lift was an elegant affair with a view down over the dance floor to where Al Starita and his band were already warming up for the evening with a lively rendition of If You Knew Susie.

"Compared to Poland, I might as well be on the moon," said Charles appreciatively, his fingers tapping in time to the music on the sparkling gold handrail round the inside of the glass lift. "Thank you for this, Mary."

She raised her eyebrows, a little taken aback by his sudden sincerity. "I sent you off style; it's only fitting to welcome you home in the same fashion."

They had reached the dance floor level and Mary went out first, so she missed the expression of mingled hope and surprise on his face at the implication of her words.

Their table had an excellent view of the dance floor and the band and they ordered cocktails and a light dinner quickly. Over their drinks and food, they had time to catch up on those details that letters had not supplied. They spoke briefly and sporadically, their shared smiles and shrugs and quirks of lips and eyebrows communicating far more clearly than mere words could how Mary had felt after Tom and Sybbie had left for America and just how lonely Charles found winter in Poland, not that he would ever say so explicitly. They were friends, good friends, quietly delighted to be in each other's company, both watching and waiting and wondering for something more and hoping against hope that the other was as well.

At midnight, just as Charles and Mary were finishing their coffee and petit fours and considering a digestif, the main show began with a troop of dancing girls in the kind of short skirts that would never have been seen even a year earlier. This was followed by a violin soloist to play the popular new tango, Jalousie.

"Everyone seems to know this tune," murmured Charles across the table to Mary, glancing around at the tables which had filled up almost completely in the past hour. The ballroom was filled with a happy buzz of low chatter along with the clinking of glasses and cutlery. Clever lighting from above bathed the professional tango dancers on the floor in a kaleidoscope of blue, orange and purple lights. "How long have I been away?"

"Far too long," replied Mary with an arch smile, leaning away from him to break into applause for the dancers and the violinist as they finished the number.

Al Starita himself took his bow in front of his band, calmed the applause, and called out, "I saw those feet tapping, ladies! Gents, don't hold back if your baby wants to dance. C'mon, boys, strike it up for the good folk of the Kit Cat Club!"

He turned round, raised his baton and launched the band into a lively rendition of Song of the Flame.

Charles laid down his napkin and stood up, holding his hand out to Mary. "Shall we? I distinctly saw your foot tapping and I'm a good little trooper who just follows his orders."

"Only if they please you." She stood up and placed her hand in his, ready to be in his arms even if a foxtrot had to be their excuse.

"I say! Charles Blake back on English shores. And with Mary Crawley too. What a tremendous… _surprise_ to see you together."

Before they could even step away from their table, they found themselves accosted by none other than Mabel Lane Fox, a most unwelcome apparition to Mary at least. Even Charles seemed disconcerted. She was dressed sumptuously in a tasselled gold dress that only descended to her upper calves and was carrying a lurid orange coloured drink with a green umbrella in it.

"Mabel!" exclaimed Charles before quickly correcting himself. "Lady Gillingham! How-"

Mabel shot Mary an irritated look and shook her head. "You didn't tell him, Mary?"

Mary looked almost abashed a moment. "I would have thought you would have done."

"Write a letter specially to a man out in Poland to tell him that I had jilted his good friend a mere two weeks before the wedding after he masterminded the happy ending himself?" She took a large swig of her cocktail. "Waste of the postage stamp."

"I'm sorry," said Charles and looked as if he meant it. He half looked at Mary in question but she did not meet his eyes. Since Mabel didn't show any sign of leaving them together, he dropped Mary's hand and instead brought another chair for the newcomer. She sat down at their table without preamble.

"I suppose it would have taken Charles down a peg to see the ruins of his schemes," she added, "but, believe it or not, I was feeling a bit raw at the time and didn't fancy explaining myself to you of all people."

"Well," he replied, still getting his bearings, "I really do seem to have missed more than a couple of new songs this past year. But I am sorry about whatever happened with Tony."

"It turns out I didn't enjoy taking Lady Mary Crawley's cast-offs after all," said Mabel who, having insisted she didn't want to explain herself, seemed to be settling down to do just that.

"Now that's not exactly what happened!" protested Mary. She had not seen Mabel since before the engagement had been broken and her only knowledge of it had come from Tony who _had _taken it upon himself to appraise her of the situation and with considerable bitterness – before he had left for an extended stay at his estates in Scotland.

"Isn't it?" Mabel held Mary's gaze a moment and then shrugged. "How do you look a person in the eye when you know that if they could be in the arms of a past lover they would be whatever they might say to the contrary? If I hadn't loved him at all and was just marrying him for his position or if I had loved him so much I was blind to anything beyond my passion, perhaps it wouldn't have mattered. But the truth is that I did love him. Enough for it to hurt anyway. More than I thought it would. But that's life, isn't it? Disappointment is a great teacher." She pulled herself quickly out of something that looked suspiciously like melancholy with a quick, sardonic smile.

Both Mary and Charles were silent a moment. The former was thinking how wrong Mabel was and the latter was thinking solely of Mary.

"You're wrong about love, you know," said Mary quietly in the pause before the band struck up Neapolitan Nights, a gentle waltz with a Mediterranean flavour. "Even if Tony had loved me, there is no reason why he couldn't have loved you as well just as much. Hearts expand – there is always room to add someone new even if it seems impossible to believe at the beginning."

"For you maybe. I'm a hard, jealous sort and if I'm going to forgive a man I'll want something in return. Tony was always too sentimental to realise that. Besides," and she shot Charles a quick look under her lashes before focussing back on Mary with provocative intensity that almost suggested the opposite of her words, "I'd rather not think about you when I'm in bed with my husband."

Mary half gasped and half laughed. She liked to think she was modern and progressive and had become increasingly so over the last few years but she realised that there were still several lines that she was unwilling to cross even in her thoughts.

Charles looked between the two ladies and his lips twitched. "Come now, Mabel, your thoughts are under your control, surely. If I were to ask you to dance for old time's sake, would you, for instance, be thinking of Mary then?"

Mabel stood up with a smirk. "I wouldn't be, but can you say the same?"

"Be my guest!" cried Mary sarcastically as she watched them take to the floor to a jaunty Cole Porter number. She instantly ordered a large cocktail to drown her irritation. She could not entirely dislike Mabel, for she saw too much of herself or of a version of herself in her, but she did not like her either and she particularly did not like her inserting herself into her evening with Charles and then stealing him away to the dance floor.

On the dance floor, Charles attempted to make his point. "That wasn't quite fair, was it, Mabel?"

"_You _asked me to dance. Don't blame me for saying yes."

"Only to get you away from Mary. After this dance, you'll return to your party and I'll return to mydate."

"If she'll have you back." As they turned round the floor, Mabel jerked her head backwards in the direction of the table they'd just left. "Give it five minutes and she'll have picked up someone who doesn't waste as much time as you."

"You think that's what I'm doing?"

"I think that neither of you are getting any younger. Scruples are all very well but she's waited a year for you, whether she sees it like that or not, and if she's anything like me, she won't bother waiting much longer."

"How do you know that I wasn't fully aware of that and planning to do something about it – and would have done without your interference?"

She laughed. "A man with a plan won't let anyone stand in his way so you'll do it anyway and I wish you luck of it. I promise not to be too jealous!"

It wasn't the way of the dance for partners to look at each other directly but Charles pulled back enough to frown at her as the thought flashed through his mind that he was not entirely sure who she might be more jealous of in this light, theoretical, nonsensical world in which she might be jealous of either of them.

He was not given much time to reflect on this because Mabel gave a sudden shout of delighted laughter, looking over his shoulder. "Ha! I knew it! She didn't waste much time."

Charles swung her round so that he could see Mary. She had been joined by a tall, distinguished gentleman of middle age and did not look at all happy about it.

"Sir Richard Carlisle!" exclaimed Charles, raising his eyebrows, not much pleased either. "What's he want with Mary?"

"That's Sir Richard Carlisle?" Mabel looked interested. "A powerful man."

Charles glanced at her, glanced at Mary and then dropped his arms out of hold. He was fed up of this charade. "Come on."

"Not even half the dance! I am very put upon!" exclaimed Mabel, but she only played the abandoned partner for a second before following hard on his heels back to the table.

Mary stood up in relief but her eyes glittered angrily as she looked at Charles and Mabel. Sir Richard stood next to her.

"Mr. Blake," he acknowledged him. "I hear you had a successful trip to Poland."

"Sir Richard." They shook hands. "Very successful, yes. And I've read of your expansion into the American market. Most impressive."

"Sir Richard has been kind enough to tell me all about it while you were dancing," said Mary with studied neutrality.

"Is nobody going to introduce us?" interrupted Mabel. "I'm feeling rather left out of this jolly meeting!"

Mary pursed her lips. "Sir Richard Carlisle, the newspaper magnate. The Honourable Mabel Lane Fox."

"Delighted," said Richard briefly.

"Charmed," replied Mabel equally crisply. "I must say, Mary, you do have a most impressive circle of friends."

"Sir Richard and I knew each other during the war. I have not seen him for many years."

"Lady Mary has changed only in her hairstyle," he acknowledged and met Mary's eyes. She looked away quickly.

Mabel looked between them sharply and then laughed suddenly. "Oh dear me, Sir Richard, don't tell me that you're one of Mary's squeezes as well? Just how far do I have to go to escape her influence?" She dropped back into a chair. "Do you know, I saw Evelyn Napier at Ascot and mentioned I knew you and he came over in such a hangdog expression it told the whole story!"

"If you feel threatened, perhaps you should spend less time with me and my friends," retorted Mary, her voice tight.

Mabel raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

"I think it's time I reclaimed Mary," said Charles firmly, taking her arm. "I promised you a dance and I intend to show you I keep my promises. Mabel, Sir Richard, please excuse us."

They were excused and Charles led Mary onto the dance floor, ignoring the waves of annoyance radiating from her, and pulled her into a much closer hold than even a slow song like Always justified. Even angry, she was soft in his arms, his hand flat against the bare skin of her back and he breathed in the scent of her fresh perfume.

"I'm sorry, Mary," he said softly, a few moments into the dance. "This probably wasn't the evening you were expecting."

"What sort of evening do you think I was expecting?" she murmured.

He chuckled ruefully. "You probably didn't expect to run into Mabel or Sir Richard Carlisle or-"

"How do you know Sir Richard?" she interrupted.

"I don't really. We've been at some of the same dinners over the years. It's a small world."

"I see." And he felt her relax a very little.

"I knew him very well for a while," she said presently. "I don't mind telling you about it sometime but I'd rather not do so tonight. He surprised me."

"I know." Without knowing the reasons why, he understood that she'd been hurt and he squeezed her hand lightly. "You don't have to tell me anything. You don't owe me anything, especially not now after I've been away so long."

Her mouth twisted into a painful smile. "I'd like to though, I think."

"Like to what? Owe me something? Mary, that's a dangerous thing to say!"

"Perhaps I'm ready to take the risk. If you are."

"With you? There's no risk I wouldn't take under that condition."

He felt her smile and the curl of her fingers shifting on his shoulder. "Come back with me to Downton tomorrow then. If you have nothing better to do, of course."

He thought of the mountain of unopened post on his office desk and the telephone message from his cousin in Ireland demanding the immediate attention of his heir.

"I'll be there." He pressed a kiss into her glossy hair before he could help himself. "And tonight?"

"Tonight?" He felt the rise and fall of her breast pressed against his. "Dance with me."

It was an order he was happy to obey and he pulled her closer, pushing out the rest of the world.

_I'll be loving you, oh always  
>With a love that's true always.<br>When the things you've planned  
>Need a helping hand,<br>I will understand always._

_Always._

_Days may not be fair always,_  
><em>That's when I'll be there always.<em>  
><em>Not for just an hour,<em>  
><em>Not for just a day,<em>  
><em>Not for just a year,<em>  
><em>But always.<em>

Back at the table, the abandoned Mabel sipped the remainder of her cocktail and gazed out across the dance floor with narrowed eyes.

"I've heard your name before, Miss Lane Fox," said Sir Richard, who had been looking at her steadily for several minutes. "Where might I have heard it?"

She turned to face him and give him all her attention. "I'm one of the richest women in the country. Money always grabs people's attention, don't you find? If that's not enough, you might have read of my broken engagements to Viscount Gillingham."

Richard raised his eyebrows. "Engagements?"

"He broke it the first time round, for Mary Crawley's sake. I broke it the second time for my own."

"Third time lucky?"

"I think _not_, Sir Richard."

He laughed at her derisory tone. "Can I get you another drink, Miss Lane Fox?"

She ran her eyes from the top of his head down to his shiny black shoes. "With pleasure. Get one for yourself at the same time."

He inclined his head and left for the bar. Mabel Lane Fox crossed her legs, lit a cigarette in her golden cigarette holder and smiled at his retreating back.

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><p><em>Hope you enjoyed! As always, reviews are love! :) HAPPY NEW YEAR!<em>


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